


Xavier's School For Pretty Normal Youngsters.

by imaeverythingfan



Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-28 16:52:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15053633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaeverythingfan/pseuds/imaeverythingfan
Summary: High School AU. Wade's seventeen and on his last year on a new school, and like every other teenager, he doesn't know what the hell he's doing.---Suck at summaries, just saw Deadpool 2 and then The Goonies and this happened!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I am so so sorry for the grammar mistakes, English is not my native language but I try hard (even if it doesn't look like that)!  
> So this is what happens when you watch Deadpool 2 and then young Josh Brolin in The Goonies.  
> I am also very inspired by this Stucky work (it's in Spanish tho) https://archiveofourown.org/works/11318721  
> Hope you like it, enjoy!

Wade takes a deep breath sitting at the principal's office. He stares at the pictures hanging behind the desk, where proud sport teams pose with their trophies. Great, two of Wade's less favourite things: fit people and sports. He almost jumps off his chair when the door opens and the bald fossil better known as the principal enters the room with a smile, followed by a student. 

“Thanks for waiting so patiently, Wade. This is Jack Hammer, he would show you the school and make sure you feel like home on your first day. Right, Jack?” 

“Right, sir.”

Jack's wearing and oversize blue hoodie, that goes perfectly with the also oversized glasses and the messy hair to do a perfect homeless look. Just after stepping out of the Patrick Stewart's doppelgänger office, Wade can't hold anymore the good and quiet boy look. 

“Wow, how old is that guy? Wait, how old are you? You look like one of those thirty years old actors playing teenagers in slash movies. Is your fucking name even real? Looks like a pornstar name,” Wade stops in the middle of the empty hall, staring at more and more sports trophies. “Are you?”

“No, I'm not a thirty years old, but I may have the knowledge of one,” the boy says, emphasizing with his index finger up. “Name's a little shitty, everybody calls me Weasel.”

“Cause that's much better!” 

“Shut up, new guy, you look like a backstreet boy someone ordered from Amazon.”

Wade can't help the laugh escaping from his chest.

“I may let you hang around the new, super cool dude. Name's Wade, by the way.”

***

At lunch time, Wade sits with Weasel and asks him about the hierarchy in the school. He's told that the football players and the cheerleaders are the kings and queens, what a surprise. Next position is for the basketball players, then the ones from the swimming team, then the track team and the soccer players. 

“What the fuck? Is this a high school or fucking ESPN?” Wade says shaking his head “I hate sports, Weasel, it has to be another way to be popular around here.”  
“Well, you can join the photography club, girls will ask you eventually to make a photobook for her and his football player boyfriend.”

Wade whines a little more louder than necessary.

“Whats the matter, anyway? Why do you need to be popular?”

He might like Weasel so far, but he's not going to open with anyone on his very first day about why he needs to be the center of attention.

“I don't need to, I just want to.”

He moves his disgusting peas around his tray, suddenly uncomfortable, until he witnesses the scene happening at the entrance of the cafeteria. Everything seems slowmo when a guy with a jaw sharper than the knife besides him walks in holding hands with one of the most beautiful girls he's ever seen. The guy is wearing the football clothes and oh boy they look nice on him. His brown hair sticking onto his neck and forehead with sweat, his thick lips smiling at the girl. 

The girl's obviously wearing the cheerleaders uniform, white over his brown skin, matching perfectly, her curly hair tied up in two buns. Wade's fascinated by them.

They are followed by what looks like less interesting people, and everything goes back to normal speed. 

“Who are they?” Wade shivers. “Oh my God, did you just felt that Twilight vibes?”

“Nate, Neena and their minions. They are in your class, our class.”

“Am I late to get into the football team?” he asks eagerly. 

Weasel lets out a loud laugh. “Oh you have time, but I've heard next Tom Cruise movie it's about be a part of that team, and spoiler alert, he doesn't made it.”

Wade lets out a soft grunt of disappointment. Even if Weasel was exaggerating, he can't remember last time he run for the mere act of feeling healthy. Damn, he can't remember last time he walked fast. Well, for sure he can't play football nor basketball, but he can swim, and run, and even a fucking dog can play soccer, he saw it in a movie once. So he had three chances to stand out in that pain in the ass called school.

***

He might or might not have waited for Nate and Neena to show up in the school park, even if he hasn't got a car waiting for him. He just lies on a car not too old to feel sorry for and now to new to brag about. 

He sees them aproaching to a red pickup truck dangerously close to the car he's lying on. 

“Hey, what's up guys.” he says moving his head in their direction over confident.

If Nate's aware of his pressence, he does a really good job faking that he can't see him. Neena looks at his direction with a cheeky smile. 

“Hey, new guy.”

He catches now a hard look from the other guy, but he's not ready to lock eyes with him yet –mostly because he feels like he could break his nose, and he's not ready for that, yet.

He stands there until they're gone, and a soft cough puts him back in the earth. 

“Hello there.”

A short girl is looking at him someway between amused and bothered. Arms crossed, locks of dyed hair spreaded on her shoulders. Brown eyes looking at him like he's the dumbest person she's ever seen.

“Hey, sweetie, do you need a ride?” he says, nodding his head at the cars direction.

“This is my car, you fucking idiot.”  
“Yeah, I know, I just saw that suspicious bottle in a paper bag that you were drinking in the cafeteria and wanted to play the good samaritan.” 

She gives him the roll eye treatment as she gets into the car, but he can see her little smile before closing the door. 

***

When he's back home, he avoids dinner with his mother and the man-shaped rat that is his step dad. He sticks his timetable in the wall over his desk, cause he may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's not going to screw up his last year of school and his chance to get far from home. 

He lets himself burying into the matress as he uses his phone to listen to his favourite Spotify playlist better than the discussion going on downstairs. 

Luckily, he falls asleep son, thinking about how tired he's going to be tomorrow when he takes all those sports tests.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and again, sorry for the mistakes or weird phrase formation or, anything, really. ♥

At eight o'clock Wade's almost falling asleep waiting for his turn to jump in the pool. He has rescued an old slip swimsuit a little tight. Probably because he hasn't used it since he was twelve. He's forced to wear a horrible swimming cap that stretches the sking around his eyes and makes him look like someone permanently looking for something.

The water's damn cold when he sinks on it. Wade slaps the water with all his strenght on it and when he's almost half way he has drunk a pint of water. The coach shakes his head on his direction and cross out what's most likely to be Wade's Wilson name.

Track is nothing better. He has to stop to catch his breath twice in the middle of a race and he falls spectacularly on his solo test, making some scratchs on his knees.

The soccer match makes him miss lunch time at the cafeteria, but Weasel comes with a couple of candy bars and a sandwhich for him. He devours it in two bites. 

“What if I don't make it?” Wade wears a horrible oversized soccer jersey, at least it's red, his color. “What is like to be an average person around here, Weas?”

“You'd probably have to stick with me all this year long.”

“Worst than I thought.”

“Hey, losers.”

The girl from de parking lot stands in front of them. She's wearing the same jersey as Wade, except that she doesn't look like a fancy trash bag. She has the hair tied up in a ponytail and Wade thinks she's gorgeus and exotic. 

“Hey, Vanessa,” Weasel salutes “Have you meet Wade?”

Wade stands up, hand on the hips. “Oh yeah, we had a lovely encounter yesterday, although I couldn't introduce myself properly. I'm Wade, the new cool guy everybody's talking about.”

“Dude, no one is talking about you. Literally, no one on earth.” 

Wade makes a fake surprise noise and grab his chest dramatically. 

“Oh, you can be so cruel, Weasel. Anyway, Vanessa, are you trying to get into the team, too?”

“I am already in. I am the girls captain.” she smirks. 

“Girls captain? Damn patriarchy, I would love to play in a mixed club.”

“You wouldn't last two minutes with me.”

She starts walking to the changing rooms and it looks like it's Wades turn to play and show what he's made of. He uses his hands to increase de volume of his voice as he screams to Vanessa:

“Is that a challenge!?”

She smiles and puts her middle finger up. 

***

By some sort of God's grace, the ball ricochets on Wade's tight and the goalkeeper is just as bad as him, what ends in him being accepted in the soccer team. 

***

There's a free chair by Weasel's side, but Wade excuses himself and goes to the last row of chairs to take a nap. He opens the maths book on a random page and rests his head on his right hand. Just a moment before the sleeping mode kicks in, Nate and Neena enter the class apologizing for being late. Suddenly Wade's book looks more interesting than ever, even when they sit not very far away from him on the last row. 

Well, they have spoiled his nap but at least now he has a good view. Nate's jaw seems more perfect by moments, and that clean face, smooth hair, arm's muscles moving under the black t-shirt while he's writing... And the way he wrinkles his mouth trying to figure out those problems... it's just adorable. 

“Hey.”

Wade freezes for a moment, thinking that he might been talking out loud or staring for too long. Neena has gotten closer to him and it's staring at him. 

“You're on the wrong page,” she points at the book. “We are on page three.”

Wade looks down at his book, opened by the middle. 

“Nah, that shit's so easy for me.” he says with an arrogant smile. 

“So you are good at maths, uh?”

“Good? Baby, Newton would cry if he heard you calling me good. I am a brain. I am, like, the king of maths. No, no, no. God of maths.”

He knows he may be in trouble when he stops talking and sees the smile on Neena's face and the look back at where Nate's still growling at his papers. 

“Perfect. You are going to help my babe, Nate. He sucks at maths and he needs to pass the course to get a scholarship.”

He swallows deeply. “Okey dokey.”

He's definitely in trouble. Who the fuck in the world would trust him to help someone with maths? Or, like, with anything? Everything stop making sense when numbers changed into letters. For God's sake, he himself has to slog his guts out to get a fucking six. 

He spends the rest of the class thinking if he should ask Weasel to give him some classes so he can give Nate the classes or that would be just as stupid at it sounds. 

Well, judging by the sounds that comes from his left and his football player look, Nate probably doesn't know how to put two and two together. “Relax, Wade, everything's gonna be ok.”

***

 

“You are doing what?” Weasel stops dramatically in the middle of the street.

“I'm going to help Nate with maths,” Wade pushes him to keep walking.

They have discovered that they not live very far from each other, and it's very convinient. 

Weasel looks upset, and Wade's confused, because he has been an average person in that high school forever and he looks happy with it. 

“What's wrong? I thought you didn't even like Nate and Neena.”

“I like everybody, I am that type of nice person, Wade.”

Wade sighs and they keep walking. At least the new way from school to home is not as long as the one before. He only has to walk twenty minutes and if he finds a job for the weekends he may be able to get a car and not fake in the parking lot that he has one already.

“It's just...” Weasel starts talking again “Why they didn't ask me? I am the nerd. I think they have never spoke a word to me.”

Now is Wade the one who stops dramatically. He turns to his friend and put both hands in his shoulders. They are both the same majestic height so it's not hard to lock eyes with him. 

“Hey. You probably are the funniest person in that high school. I mean... I'm in the first place and only have meet like, four people, but... Hey, I'm sure you are at least in the fifty funniest people. One hundred, okay? Don't be too ambitious.”

Weasel opens his mouth in protest, but he keeps talking.

“Don't worry about football players and cheerleaders, you have me as your best friend, that's all you need.”

“You are not my best friend, we met two days ago.”

“Ah! Time really flies, bestie, it looks like it was yesterday.”

Weasel shakes his head but the worrying in his face vanish and they keep walking home.


	3. Chapter 3

Wade gives a look to the clock to make sure that he's awake at 8 a.m on a Saturday morning. He's attending his fist soccer training. Problems of being popular. 

The blinds are almost all the way down and the morning sun barely lights up the room. The sheets are spread on the floor due to Wade kicking them off at night, feeling too hot for a September night.

If he's waking up at that ungodly time at least he's going to have some fun with himself, he thinks when his hand rubs his cock absently. He tries so hard to not think in anyone particularly , but he can't help it when he imagines those well worked arms pinning him to the bed. 

“Fuck.”

That's the only thing he can self to himself before coming dramatically fast on his hand. He cleans it on his naked torso before heading to the shower. 

***

When the ball hits his face for the third time Wade thinks that a coffee would have been better than jerking off. The coach yells lovely things to either encourage him or making him cry. When the training it's over he feels like he's going to throw up. He needs a couple of minutes and lies on the grass. 

“You know how to perfom a shitty show for sure.”

He rolls his head to see Nate standing graceful next to him, with his uniform sticking to his legs and arms. He's got the helmet in one hand and the other one on his hip. 

“I hope you do maths better than you play soccer,” he continues while Wade realises that that's the first time Nate is talking to him.

“What do you mean? I was clearly the MVP. The V stands for vulnerable, right?”

He stands to see the weird looking that he's receiving from the football player. Wade's clearly taller than him but he feels pretty small with all the self confidence that Nate irradiates. 

“Can you come to my house today? For the maths thing,” he clarifies, like if there was no other scenario in which Wade could visit his house. 

He responds to quickly, probably, gaining another weird look. They agree in meeting at 3.

***

Once at home, he takes another shower. If he can avoid a bunch of sweaty jocks on the high school showers, he will do for sure. He smells a couple of t-shirts and wears a white one that may have a couple of holes in it, just like his jeans. And they say fashion is not his strongest point. 

He chooses one more time the window as a way out of the house, and heads to Nate's, that is kind of close to the school. He stops at a pizza place to gain so time, cause it's only 2 p.m and it's gonna be weird if Nate sees him wandering around his house. The place seems tidy and clean, and has a sign asking for staff. Isn't that convinient? He takes a sit on an empty chair near the counter. 

“What can I get you?”

A guy that has to be his age but looks like he's thirteen, looks at him from the other side. He wears a green uniform under a black apron and a black cap, too. Wade can read Peter on his tag. 

“Pepperony slice, please, Pete boy,” 

The other guy doesn't give him the hard look he's expecting, like he's used to people calling him names without knowing him. 

“What drink?”

“The better glass of water you can get me,” 

“I know you,” Peter says, approaching with Wade's glass of water. “From the swimming test, you are the one that almost drown.”

“You must be thinking in someone else, I nailed that. I think they want me to be the captain.”

“No you didn't, I'm on the swimming team.” 

Wade looks at him squinting his eyes before taking a big bite of his pizza slice. It's hot as hell but he keeps a straight face while drinking his delicious water. 

“Jokes on you, you just lost your captain,”

Peter seems amused with Wade. He eats his slice and goes for another one, because last thing he had in his stomach was last night burrito and didn't know how hungry he was until he started to eat. 

He rambles about the evidences of the unicorns being a real thing out there in the world with Peter shaking his head and laughing from time to time. 

“Bottom line: that farmer dind't have any reason to lie about that majestic animal. Real animal. And by the way, I want to work here,” he says when Peter cleans the spot he has been eating on. “What do I have to do?” 

“Nothing really, no one wants to work here.” 

“What, why? Place seems clean and pizza is good. Wait, if you need help, blink twice. “

Peter watches him with wide eyes, like if he blinks accidentally Wade's gonna call the cops. He shrugs. 

“They don't pay a lot,” 

“I can put up with that,”

As long as the job keeps me apart from home long enough, he wants to say, but he doesn't. 

***

Nate's neighbourhood is quite fancy. All the houses looks the same and family cars are parked outside, with one or two sport cars exceptions here and there. It smells like fresh cut lawn and not a single house has a wild bush to ruin the picture. 

He's about to check Google Maps for directions but he sees the red pick-up truck that Nate drives. His hands are sweaty and cleans them in his jeans before knocking at the door. He hears steps coming down the stairs and Nate opens the door for him. 

He'e wearing shorts loose on his tighs, a goddamned grey tank top that leaves his fantastic arms exposed to everyone's sight, including his. He's barefoot and his smooth hair is being held up by a red kerchief. 

“Come on in,”


	4. Chapter 4

Nate's room is nothing like Wade have imagined. Apart from a bunch of trophies, medals and a signed football ball it's not nothing like the sports museum he had in mind. It's pretty clean and neat except from the pile of cloths under the bed and all the papers spreaded over the desk. There's a couple of posters up in the walls, one's just a big white skull over a black background and the other one it's a Blade Runner one.

“Dude, that movie is hell overrated, it's so fucking boring,” Wade speaks before he can stop himself. “I mean, that's my opinion.”

Nate places two chairs together and sits in the one that looks less comfortable. 

“I like futuristic stuff,” he says opening the maths book “Plus, I don't give a shit about your opinion.”

“Fair enough.”

It turns out that Nate is only taking a few classes that he left behind last year. So he has some knowledges from the last time but maths is really not his thing. He fails in the simplests calculations and, like every other sports guy, does not accept the failure very well. 

When they are done, about two hours later, Wade's so proud of his self control, because he hasn't used any degrading name like you fucking dumbass jock, even if the situation has asked for it. 

“Do you want something to drink? You look almost as bad as after excercise for two minutes."

“Ha. Yeah, sure, hit me with that Muscle Milk,” he smirks "And that's not a dirty suggestion."

Nates laughs slightly and shakes his head.

***

They move to the sitting room and Wade feels the involuntary prick of the envy. Photos of Nate and -he assumes- his little sister, are placed all over the room. There are a couple of them with their parents, too. Nate tells him they are away in a gymnastics show.

It's not their fault to be a happy family -or it is, whatever-, but he can't hep when it comes to feeling like shit because he's never going to have that. Even when he tries to convince himself with being over all of that matter, he deeply know that he isn't.

“So you are home alone and prefer to take a maths class instead of throwing a party?” 

Both are sitting on the same large couch, one in each end, Nate's legs streched over the sofa, left arm resting on the back of it and the right holding a coke. If Wade imitated his position, his longer legs would be slightly above the other ones. 

“I don't want a drunk guy breaking my things.”

“Well, maybe not a big party. Just a friends reunion,” Wade readjusts his position and crosses his legs over the sofa, facing Nate. “Three or four beers, you know, enough alcohol to jump dressed to the pool, but not enough to do it from the roof.”

The shorter boy makes a guttural noise while drinking like he's contemplating the idea. 

“I throw a little party, only back garden allow, and you help me clean everything after. No excuses.”

“Dude, I wasn't even dreaming about you saying yes, you have a fucking deal.”

***

He goes back home to have another shower, cause walking with the hot has made him sweat again and he doesn't want to attend his first party smelling like shit. He dresses with black jeans, a black hoodie, and a yellow and black t-shirt to give it a little color. Next thing is to text Weasel, cause he doubs a lot that anyone else is going to invite him to the party. 

When the voices downstairs starts to get loud, he doesn't grab his earphones as usually, and not knowing really why, he decides to go downstair, regretting just half way down. 

His step dad is keeping his mother trapped between the wall and his body, screaming the hell out of him. His mother's face is made of fear. 

“Hey, step back, dude, that's not okay.” 

At least that does it to distract him. He steps back and faces him. Wade is taller than him, but he has seen the older man beating a group of guys by himself. 

“The fucking little Wade, you still living with us? It's like a goddamn miracle to see your pretty face.”

“Thanks for the compliment, man, but I'm not into older men, at least not as much as you are into beating women.”

Even if it's his step dad the one that makes a little attempt of raising his hand, the slap that makes his head tilting come from his mother. He keeps a straight face when facing her, but he can feel the tears behind his eyes, more because of the betrayal feeling than for the slap. 

“You are a disgrace, Wade. Now go to your room.”

***

He's singing all the lyrics to The Real Slim Shady when Weasel shows up. He's wearing a hideous shirt and his hair looks like it has been glued to his scalp. He has bought 24 cans of beer for him and Wade. 

“Are you sure 24 aren't too much?”

“Weas, I would need all of them just to forget your fucking shirt. Thanks God you are not wearing a bow tie."

“What are you talking about? You look like a homeless goth.”

Wade lets out a loud laugh and grabs a beer, anticipating to the party. 

***

There is around thirty people in Nate's back garden. They are dancing to some shitty music that sounds like a baby pounding a drum with a cat. He's sitting with Weasel on a beer barrel watching the most thrilling beer pong match ever. Or maybe he's just drunk. He has get rid of the hoodie drinking the second beer, and he has roll his t-shirt under his chest in the fourth one. 

“Hey Wade, nice look.”

Vanessa looks gorgeous tonight. She's wearing a grey dress that fits tight on the waist and the hips and Wade feel his throat dry all the sudden. He wants to put his hands in her back and feel all her curves. 

“What?” he says, realizing she's still talking to him.

“Are you good at beer pong? You and I against Nate and Neena.”

He stands up way too quickly and his everything spins for him. 

“Good? You don't know who are you talking with, do you? Girl, I created this game. I could make them drink their cups and ours.”

“I've heard that speech before.” 

Neena smiles behind Vanessa, holding hands with Nate. And yes, to be honest, all his sentences about being the best at something has some kind of similarity. 

He hasn't seen or talked to Nate in all night, and Wade's pretty sure that he knows about his arms kink, cause he's wearing a white shirt that might be from two years ago, making it very tight when he does certain movements with his arms. 

“C'mon then Wade, let me shut up that big mouth of yours.”

They lock eyes for an eternity -for Wade, at least – before he stands up and approaches to the ping pong table. 

He wasn't lying about being good, or, acceptable, at beer pong, but he wasn't counting with the drunk fact. All his balls hit the edge of the cups, sending them in all directions. The looks of disappointment from Vanessa, along with Nate's screams of superiority don't help either. 

He feels sick and prays for not throwing up. 

“That was rig, dude, it's Nate's ping pong table, he has some kind of... I don't know, check his balls, Ness.”

She and Neena laughs and he could swear there's a little of pink in the boy cheeks. 

“No one's checking my balls, Wade, get some sleep, you're wasted.”

Nate himself and Weasel scorts him to the same couch they were lying in earlier that day. His head feels heavy, just like his eyes, that he can barely keep open. Weas goes back to the garden, no people in the house allowed, and he can hear Nate around, throwing things in the bin. He hears him approaching before he squeezes his shoulder.

“Got you water. Drink.”

He has to do the biggest effort to open his eyes and hold the glass of water. 

“Oh, so thoughtful. Are you feeling bad cause you make me drink all the alcohol in this house?”

Nate chuckles. 

“I said no excuses and I'm pretty sure you'd be complaining about your headache tomorrow when it comes to help me.”

“I am a man of my word,” he says, suddenly too serious. 

The shortest guy nods, and just because he's drunk too, or maybe because he thinks Wade's not going to remember the next day, he uses his fingers to touch his hair, putting it away from his forehead. The moment it's too long and delicate for two guys that had their first conversation earlier that morning. He can't help closing his eyes again, feeling the air moving when Nate heads outside again.


End file.
